Drapes
by snarkvenger
Summary: Spike stops by to find Buffy losing a strange battle with a heap of curtains. Spuffy. Oneshot.


_Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters do not belong to me. This story, however, does.  
**A/N: **_So I really wanted to write some Buffy fanfiction. I asked my friend for a prompt, so she challenged me to write a story about Buffy and Spike that included that word 'drapes' somewhere in it. And because I was enjoying some cookies and an impending sugar rush, this is what I came up with :D Enjoy, and please read and review, ^^

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Spike knocked on the door once before pushing it open and letting himself in. He remained in the doorway a moment longer than usual, glancing back and forth to be sure there was no one there to reprimand him for so rudely intruding on the Summers' household. His trademark smirk came onto his lips when he found no one shouting at him. He shut the door rather loudly, announcing his presence, and heard a crash in the next room, followed by a string of curses muttered by an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Slayer?" Spike called, turning on his heel and wandering into the living room. He didn't see her anywhere but he could smell her blood, sense her presence, hear her mumbling obscenities under her breath. He scanned the room, trying to find her, and then he saw a slender hand appear from behind the couch. Buffy felt around the floor for a moment, and then he saw her other hand appear, then her forearm, then her elbow, and her shoulders and head emerged simultaneously. The slayer huffed and pulled the rest of her body out from behind the sofa, kicking her legs to get a huge tangle of fabric to release her from its grip.

Once free, Buffy scrambled a good three feet away from the mess she'd made and sat cross-legged on the floor. With her arms crossed tightly over her chest she stared at the mound of material as if the mere power of her gaze would cause it to spontaneously combust, or perhaps just disintegrate into dust on the spot. After a minute or two of this intense stare, Buffy sighed heavily and fell onto her back, throwing her arms above her head in defeat.

Spike smiled, noticing the opportunity.

" 'Ello, pet," he said a bit too cheerfully as he crossed the room and plopped himself unceremoniously onto the couch. He leaned over the arm to stare down at her.

"Not. A. Word." Buffy bit the words out and, without even opening her eyes, she pointed at Spike in a failed attempt to threaten him. This only made his amusement grow and he peeked over the couch to see the thing that had the slayer in such distress.

"New curtains?" he asked. She groaned and opened her eyes, searching for a moment to find his.

"Shut up." Spike just shrugged and looked around the room.

"I have to say, the old ones were bloody dreadful. Didn't fit with this décor at all," he observed, waving his hand as a means of addressing the room. He glanced behind himself once more, taking another look at the tangle of fabric and metal curtain rods. "These will look much better. They'll add a touch of class. God knows this house needs it."

He hummed quietly, examining the faint diamond shapes running along what he assumed was the bottom of the curtains. Then he examined the rest of the living room, slowly taking in the exact embroidering on the throw pillows he was seated against, the carefully knit quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the diamond-printed rug he was sure his muddy boots were staining. He nodded his head.

"Yep, I think these will look quite nice in here."

Buffy pushed herself back into a sitting position, her expression instantly going from annoyed to somewhat bored as she continued to stare at the vampire that had invaded her home. Spike looked at her again, raising his eyebrows in question.

"What?" he said.

"What do you want?" Buffy asked. Spike's mouth formed a circle, his hand flying up to his chest, gripping the part of his shirt that lay over his unbeating heart.

"Why, Buffy, I'm shocked," he said. "And a little hurt. You honestly think that I came here because I _want_ something from you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes as she slowly rose to her feet, brushing dust off of her jeans.

"Why else would you be here?" she inquired. Spike shrugged his shoulders as she walked over and sat down beside him.

"There was nothing on the telly," he stated simply. Buffy stared at him, incredulous, her mouth on the verge of hanging open. Spike glanced at her, his brow furrowing instantly.

"What?"

"Why are you really here?"

"I can't just stop by? Is that suddenly illegal?" he questioned.

"You?" Buffy said. "Just 'stop by'?"

"Yeah, all innocent and what-not," Spike replied. Buffy shook her head.

"There's nothing innocent about you." The vampire considered this for a moment, then nodded his head.

"All right, yeah, I'll admit you've got me there," he agreed. "But seriously, I'm just here because I was bored."

"Bored," Buffy repeated, a statement and not a question. Spike nodded.

"Yes. Bored," he said slowly, dragging out each syllable. She watched him for another minute, then huffed and fell back against the cushions. Silence settled over the two, a gentle buzzing kind of silence that filled their ears. Spike stood suddenly, bending behind the sofa and taking the curtains in his hands. Buffy watched him turn the fabric over and over, as if he were studying it, and then he tossed it aside and reached for the discarded curtain rods.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to figure out how these bloody drapes attacked you," he replied without looking at her.

"Oh," Buffy said sheepishly, glancing away and taking a sudden interest in her coffee table. "I've never really been that great with drapery."

"Really?" Spike said. He lowered himself to the floor, gathering the curtains at his side and beginning to slide them onto the rod. At a certain length, the fabric began to bunch up, and then rolls of it started to overlap to the point where it wouldn't move another inch over the metal rod. "Bloody hell," Spike cursed, tearing the drapes off the rod and straightening them out before beginning a second attempt.

Buffy shook her head and stood. She left Spike with the curtains and went into the kitchen, fishing a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with water from the tap. She took a long gulp of the cool liquid, enjoying the way it slid down her throat.

"Bugger!" Spike's outburst was followed by the distinct ping of metal on wood. Buffy couldn't suppress her smile as she went back into the living room. She set her glass on the coffee table and went to join her vampiric guest on the floor.

"No luck?"

"You managed to find the most dysfunctional curtains in all of California!" Spike replied. Buffy laughed, taking the drapes out of his hands and settling them in her own lap. She reached across Spike to grab the curtain rods and try again.

"I didn't know curtains could be dysfunctional," she said.

"Me either, until today," he replied. Buffy laughed as she pulled the drapes, which she had managed to get at least halfway down the rod this time, off again and started to rearrange the way she was holding everything before trying once more. Spike watched her struggle to push the drapes up the rod, her concentration unmatched by anyone else he'd ever seen. He saw the first few stubborn folds of material start to bunch up, then roll on top of each other and bunch up more. The minute Buffy noticed the rod and curtains went flying across the room.

"What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?" Spike exclaimed, clearly shocked at the slayer's behavior. Buffy reached in front of her and gently tugged the things back, quickly pulling them into her lap before giving Spike a weak and timid smile.

"Um…Oopsie?"

"Yeah," Spike said. "Tell that to the wall."

He pointed ahead of them and Buffy looked over, seeing the tiny dent the rod had made when it collided with the wall. A few pieces of chipped paint now dotted the floor. A blush started to burn against the slayer's cheeks. She laughed half-heartedly, clearly embarrassed, and ducked her head, eager to busy herself with something other than conversation with a certain blonde vampire.

When she failed once more, Buffy dropped everything and fell back against the floor, just as she had done when Spike first arrived. Spike smiled at her and, as if she sensed this, she pointed over to him.

"Don't say anything," she warned.

"Wasn't going to, luv," Spike replied. Buffy groaned deep in her throat.

"Maybe the old curtains really weren't that bad. I should have just left them," she commented.

"Oh, no, they were that bad, pet," Spike responded too quickly. Buffy glared at him so fiercely he held up his hands in defense. She held her glare strong for a moment, then shook her head and waved him off. Spike laughed lightly at her as he leaned backwards, slowly letting his back relax against the floor.

"This is kind of comfortable," he commented, moving as close to the slayer as he could without her noticing the small space between them. A smile brightened her features.

"Better than fighting with drapes," she said. He smiled, too, and nodded his head.

"Definitely better than that."

The two of them were lying like that, side-by-side using the rug as a makeshift pillow of sorts, only inching separating their bodies, laughing and joking with each other when they heard the door creak about an hour later.

"Buff, you here?" It was Xander's voice, and Buffy bolted upright.

"Um, y-yeah," she called, pushing her hair out of her face with her fingers. "I'm…We're in here."

"We're?" Xander replied, turning into the living room. "Do you have other personali- Oh."

Xander's face fell when he saw the vampire that was lying beside his best friend. Buffy offered a small smile as Spike sat up, crossing his legs Indian-style and giving Xander a small wave.

"Hi there," he said.

"Hi," Xander replied warily.

"Xander, Spike was just um…Well he was walking and he...Um…He stopped by to…"

"Well, actually, I was just here because I was hoping to eat all of you and finally finish off the slayer here once and for all," Spike replied, and then he motioned towards the abandoned heap of curtains that had been lying at his and Buffy's feet. "But I settled for a rather intense battle with some drapery instead."

"Right," Xander said, drawing out the sound of the 'i'. Spike nodded, satisfied with his explanation, and rose to his feet, Buffy quickly following his lead.

"And now that the drapes are clearly defeated," Spike continued, glancing briefly at Buffy, "I think I should be going."

"Uh-huh," Xander said.

"Yeah," Buffy said. She and Spike looked at one other, then to Xander, and then Spike started making his way towards the front door. "I'm just…I'm going to walk him out."

"Sure," Xander replied. Buffy stood still for a moment before realizing that Spike was already halfway to the door. She hurried after him, Xander watching the two awkwardly weaving around each other, their hands fighting for the door knob until the door finally swung open and Spike stepped onto the porch.

"So, I'll see you around, Slayer," he said.

"Yeah, right, around," Buffy replied. Spike turned and began walking down the driveway, hugging his duster close to himself as if he could actually feel the breeze that was blowing around him. She watched him until he was completely out of sight, and even then remained in the doorway just in case she might see some quick glimpse of him in the distance.

"Hey, Buff." Xander's voice pulled her back. She stepped into the house, pulling the door closed as she moved, and stepped into the living room.

"Yeah?" she said. Xander was standing over the mess of drapes and rods, holding the package that the curtains had come in in one hand and one of the curtain rods that had made Spike particularly angry in the other.

"I don't think these curtains are the right size for these rods."


End file.
